


then the rest is just whatever

by PinkCanary



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Multi, PWP, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 04:51:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5192993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkCanary/pseuds/PinkCanary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not like they really have any <i>rules</i> about this sort of thing.  They practically live with each other and they all have pretty healthy sex drives, and sometimes things just <i>happen</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	then the rest is just whatever

**Author's Note:**

> Quick and smutty Bravenlarke one-shot. Title is from If It's Love by Train.

The idea of _knocking_ doesn’t even occur to Raven.

Because, well… duh. She has a key and it might be Bellamy’s apartment, but she and Clarke have been practically living there for months. Her favorite hoodie is thrown over Bellamy’s desk chair (Clarke steals it all the time, but it’s a bit long on her and so she often skips _pants_ when she wears it, so Raven can’t bring herself to complain) and her textbooks are on his coffee table, and he’s even started picking up her favorite cereal when he’s grocery shopping without having to be asked. 

So yeah, knocking? Not even a consideration.

The apartment is mostly dark -- just a warm yellow glow from the hanging light fixture over the kitchen bar. Which is, frankly, surprising. Raven had expected to find the two of them in their usual places in the living room; Clarke bent over a sketch pad or an anatomy textbook, while Bellamy graded undergraduate papers. The Food Network on the TV at an almost inaudible volume. 

Not that they were predictable at all.

Raven was just toeing off her Converses and hanging her jacket up on the coat hooks that Bellamy had installed specifically for her and Clarke (he was forever lamenting the two of them leaving their bags and jackets all over his furniture) when her attention was caught by a soft noise coming from the bedroom. 

It’s Clarke’s voice, Raven can tell, as she moans again, even louder this time. Almost in response, there is a low hum of encouragement. Bellamy. And hearing them is good, but seeing them? _Like that’s even a question._ She crosses the apartment, her socked feet nearly silent on the carpet, until she reaches the kitchen, right across from the open bedroom door. 

From this angle, Raven can’t see Bellamy’s face -- mostly because it’s buried between Clarke’s thighs. His shirt on the floor next to the bed, and her legs are thrown over his shoulders, and Raven can see one of Bellamy’s hands as he grips Clarke’s hips to hold her in place, but the other one has disappeared in the gap between her thighs. 

And if Raven was at all concerned about Clarke noticing her presence (she isn’t), it’s clear that Clarke is way beyond that point. Her head is thrown back, her eyes screwed closed, and she is gripping Bellamy’s hair so tightly that Raven would think that it was hurting him, if she didn’t _know_ that Bellamy lives for that shit. 

Clarke lets out another strangled groan, a sound that could be Bellamy’s name, and Raven’s head falls back against the pillar on the side of the kitchen bar as she watches.

It’s not like they really have any _rules_ about this sort of thing. They practically live with each other and they all have pretty healthy sex drives, and sometimes things just _happen_. There is an unspoken agreement that it’s just better when they’re all there, but Clarke’s hands have been known to wander down into Raven’s pants when they’re curled around each other on the sofa, and Raven has definitely climbed on top of Bellamy while Clarke was engrossed in a painting on the other side of the room.

But a chance to watch Bellamy get Clarke off? That is something that Raven just can’t resist. Not that they would stop even if they knew that she was here, but there is something undeniably hot about being able to watch them when they don’t know that they have an audience. 

Like the way that Clarke’s back arches off the bed, and the way that one hand comes up to tangle in her own hair. Or how Bellamy presses down with his free arm, holding Clarke’s hips still as she tries to thrust against Bellamy’s face. And the noises that Clarke makes; little whimpers and groans that gradually get higher in pitch and louder in volume... until she is suddenly silent. 

And that is what Raven has been waiting for; she holds her breath, not even wanting to stir the air as she waits for what she knows happens next. Because she can tell that Clarke is on the edge of orgasm, even from the kitchen. Can hear Bellamy’s low murmur of encouragement and the harsh sound of Clarke’s labored breathing. Can almost imagine the slick sound of Bellamy’s fingers sliding in and out of Clarke as her walls tighten around him. 

It feels like an eternity, Clarke’s eyes squeezed tightly shut and her brow furrowed in concentration, before she finally _snaps_ , with a harsh gasp and a low groan of Bellamy’s name. Bellamy continues whispering words that Raven can’t hear into Clarke’s skin, until she is finally coming down, per body sinking into the mattress bonelessly. 

As she watches Bellamy kissing his way back up Clarke’s flushed body, Raven realizes that she is panting almost as hard as Clarke herself. And really, no one could blame her for _that_. But Bellamy is also starting to push his own jeans down his legs, and this is going to be over a lot sooner than she wants if she doesn’t make her presence known pretty damn quick.

“Is that it, Bellamy?” She says, her voice low and teasing and embarrassingly breathless, as she steps forward into the dim light of the bedroom.

Clarke jumps, lurching upright and wincing as her forehead connects with Bellamy’s shoulder. Of course, Bellamy just turns around slowly to face Raven, an infuriating smirk on his face, as if he knew that she was there all along.

And maybe he did.

“I didn’t realize that you were so content to watch.” Bellamy says, smug. And yeah, maybe that isn’t Raven’s normal M.O. But it isn’t like she’s going to turn down a show.

And so she tells him that. “I like watching you get Clarke off.” She raises one eyebrow in challenge. “Think you can do it again?”

Bellamy’s eyes flash, with a mix of arousal and… something else that Raven can’t quite define. But he is never one to turn down a challenge, and suddenly he is dipping his head down to capture Clarke’s lips with his own. His body is pressing Clarke’s down into the mattress and his hands are cupping Clarke’s face. When he pulls away, he lets his forehead rest against hers and Raven can hear his softly whispered words. “What do you think, Clarke?”

Her response is immediate. She nods urgently, before pressing her mouth against his once again.

It isn’t long before Bellamy has Clarke squirming beneath him, her hips canting upwards as she wraps her legs around his waist. They are still kissing urgently, and Clarke has started making the tiniest whimpers against Bellamy’s mouth. And they are _gorgeous_ , sexy and intense, moving against each other as if they can anticipate just what the other needs before they even realize it themselves. But Raven suddenly wants _more_. 

“C’mon, Bell. You’re making her wait.” Raven says, low and breathy. 

Clarke fucking _laughs_ , tossing her head backwards against the pillow, and the sound is bright and _golden_ to Raven’s ears. And then it’s suddenly cut off with a strangled groan when Bellamy’s hand comes down to stroke through her soaked folds. 

And _shit_ , now Raven really does feel like some sort of creeper, watching them from several feet away. She quickly strips her skinny jeans down her legs, leaving her in just her underwear and a black tank top, before lowering herself down on to the bed next to Clarke, leaning back against the pillows. For just a second, Clarke opens her eyes and looks up at her, and _this_ is what Raven loves about one-orgasm-down-Clarke. She’s never shy or reserved in bed, but get the girl off once, and she just loses any inhibitions that she might have had. Also, she absolutely _craves_ physical contact, and so she turns slightly so that she can bury her face into Raven’s bare thigh, practically begging Raven to just _touch_ her. 

Like Raven needs any encouragement.

She threads her fingers through the tangled mess of blonde curls that is pressed up against her bare skin, giving the slightest tug from the roots. Clarke moans in appreciation, catching Bellamy’s attention from down between her legs. His mouth is otherwise occupied, but Raven can see the clear smirk in his eyes. But _fuck_ , it’s hard to pay attention to what Bellamy is doing, when she has Clarke’s hot panting breath against her bare skin, as Clarke presses her body closer into Raven’s hand, desperate for more contact. 

And well, one of Raven’s hands is occupied with stroking down Clarke’s flushed neck and towards her collarbone, but that leaves her with one free hand to slip down beneath the band of her underwear. Because if someone -- anyone -- doesn’t touch her immediately, she is going to lose her fucking mind. She immediately starts a slow teasing circling motion on her own clit, and when she feels more than hears Clarke’s soft groan vibrate against her skin, she realizes that it has not gone unnoticed by either of her partners.

“Oh god, Raven,” Clarke groans mindlessly, pressing her forehead harder against Raven’s thigh. But, a second later, she pulls back a little so that she can look up at Raven.

It feels fucking amazing, watching Clarke _watching_ her. Knowing that Clarke is getting off on watching Raven’s own reaction to Bellamy and Clarke. _And this is why it’s always better when they’re all here,_ Raven can’t help thinking.

And _fuck_ , it’s _good_. So good, in fact, that Raven realizes that she needs to slow down. She slows the fingers circling her clit, slows down to the point where it’s more of a tease than anything, but still too much. And so, slowly, making sure that she has Bellamy’s attention, she slips those two fingers _inside_. Her clit throbs at the sudden loss of contact, and her hips jump just a little, looking for _more_. 

Raven gasps, and her eyes slip closed for just a second. When she opens them, she meets Bellamy’s even stare. “C’mon, Bell,” she says, and her voice sounds like pure _sex_ , even to her own ears. “Get Clarke off so that you can fuck me. I can’t wait much longer.” 

If there was any question about Clarke and Bellamy’s near-physic connection before, their matching groans -- almost identical in pitch and duration -- would confirm the hypothesis. And suddenly, they are working as a team. Working towards a common goal. Bellamy holding his tongue at what appears to be be the perfect amount of pressure, as he crooks his fingers _just so_. And Clarke moving her hips against him, _using him_ as she works toward her own orgasm. 

It’s seriously fucking hot. Especially taking into consideration the way that Bellamy is trying to stop his own hips from grinding against the mattress as he fucks Clarke with his tongue. And how Clarke has turned her head once again so that her face is pressed against Raven’s thigh, each gasp and groan pressed into her skin like a branding. Raven is almost overwhelmed by the feeling of being surrounded by both of them; like she’s taking each of their instinctive reactions to each other and absorbing them into her own body.

And so, when Clarke finally -- _finally_ \-- tightens her fingers on Raven’s thigh, all Raven can do is tighten her own fingers in Clarke’s hair, tugging lightly near the roots in wordless agreement with everything that Clarke is feeling at that moment. She comes with a harsh cry muffled into Raven’s skin, and Raven can’t help circling her own clit with her thumb, trying for even an ounce of relief as she watches Clarke fall apart.

When Bellamy finally makes his way back up Clarke’s body, Clarke can only turn on to her side, curling up against Raven’s side like a cat, languid and content. 

Raven’s hand is still moving carefully, slowly, but her grasp on control is swiftly disappearing. Bellamy eyes her for a moment, hungry and appreciative. “Are you close?” He asks, and Raven can hear the strain in his voice. Can only nod, desperate, not trusting her own voice at this moment.

And Clarke doesn’t seem too keen to move from her spot, and so Bellamy just lifts Raven’s legs, throwing them over his hips, as he lays on his side. Gently, he pulls Raven’s hand -- still working, faster now -- away from her slick folds, only to replace her fingers with his own. He groans at the feeling of her, wet and responsive, as Raven feels her own muscles clenching around Bellamy’s fingers. “Fuck, Raven,” he says, low and urgent.

“Oh god, yes,” Raven can’t help answering, and she’s not sure where she finds the frame of mind to _smirk_ and yet, there it is.

She can _feel_ Clarke laughing against her neck, and Clarke’s hand reaches across Raven’s thigh and down between her legs, fingers sliding across Raven’s clit easily. And that seems to spur Bellamy into action; he lifts Raven’s legs higher, so that he can slide his hips right up next to her pelvis, and guide himself inside. 

It isn’t the most graceful position, and Bellamy doesn’t have a whole lot of room or leverage to move, but Clarke’s fingers have the perfect access to Raven’s clit as Clarke continues to press her body against Raven’s side. And Bellamy’s thrust are shallow, but Raven’s hips rise to meet him and she knows that both of them are right on the edge, _anyway_.

Bellamy is clutching on to Raven’s knee as he presses Raven’s leg up closer into her chest, and Clarke’s fingers trip over her clit in rapid circles, and the pleasure starts to spiral out of control so quickly that Raven would be embarrassed at how _eager_ she is, if it hadn’t have been for the residual mental images of Bellamy practically humping the bed while Clarke cried out his name against her thigh. 

Oh yeah, none of them have any control, and Raven can’t even process the slightest bit of regret at this moment.

It’s a desperate race to the finish that Raven wins -- but not by much -- and Clarke throws her free arm around Raven’s shoulders, pulling her closer so that Raven can bury her face into Clarke’s neck as she comes. She doesn’t know -- can’t even think at all at that moment -- whether it’s more for Clarke’s or her own benefit, but it doesn’t really matter, because it’s what they both need. And almost immediately, Bellamy is cursing and his hips are uncoordinated and frantic and Raven is surrounded by both of them and it’s just the fucking _best_.

And really, she can’t imagine it any other way.

Raven is almost asleep, when suddenly Bellamy speaks. “How was class?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

And she can’t even really comprehend that class is even a thing that exists right now, with her legs still thrown over Bellamy’s torso and Clarke’s head resting on her shoulder, and one of her legs stretched out so that Bellamy can pillow his own head on Clarke’s calf. Basically, they are going to have to move at _some point_ or else they’re all going to be human pretzels in the morning, but Raven can’t even fathom _wanting_ to move at this moment.

But still, she answers. “It was fine. We got out early.”

“I noticed,” Clarke remarks with an adorable little snort. 

Raven reaches out one hand to nudge Clarke in the side, because that is literally the absolute maximum amount of movement that she’s willing to indulge right now, but Clarke just buries in closer to her neck, if that was even possible. 

Raven’s tired, and Clarke’s breathing is growing slow and shallow, but Bellamy’s eyes are still sparkling with amusement as he watches them. “Sleep, Bell,” she admonishes quietly. Clarke doesn’t even stir at her side.

Bellamy’s smile grows impossibly larger, but he does respond to Raven’s whispered request, and his eyes slip closed, as well. 

And yeah, they definitely work separately, Raven thinks, as she drifts off to sleep. But it really is better when they’re all together.


End file.
